Auspicious
by Seraphim
Summary: Remus Lupin receives a visitor unexpectedly one stormy night. Can he make a broken Sirius Black understand? R/S slash


There was almost something saturnine about him as he sat across from me, gazing into the dying embers of the fire I'd begun and never tended. It's slipped my mind when he showed up at my door, fresh out of the rain. His ebony locks of hair had seemed all the darker as they'd stuck to his gaunt face and he'd looked up at me and given the most casual of, "hello's," as though I'd been expecting him. When I think about it, maybe I had been.

Briefly, I'd wondered how he'd known where to find me, but it didn't seem important at the time. I've never thought Sirius to be fragile looking but as he'd entered my tiny apartment, soaked through and though, it seemed that a strong gust might snap him in two pieces. Ratted robes hung limply off of his small frame and I noticed then that he wore no cloak. I'd immediately seated him front of the fire and went about getting him things to make him more comfortable, such as a towel and dry robes, but he'd caught me by the wrist and asked me just to sit with him for awhile.

So there I sat. Watching as his dark eyes drifted farther and farther away. He'd always been mordant sort of person, never afraid to put a bully in his place. Now he seemed so...sullen. Had Azkaban done that to him? Or was it more?

"Sirius?" I'd asked. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, Moony."

"Are you sure?"

He shifted in the chair so that he was facing me, midnight blue eyes locking n my own amber. "Yes. I'm just tired." There was truth in his words, I could tell, but not entirety. He turned back away.

"...what are you doing here, Padfoot? Why come out of hiding now?"

"Shhh," he reached his arm, white as the walls must have been at one time, out to me and pressed a finger against my lips. "Let's not talk for awhile." Slowly, his hand traveled down from mouth and went to rest on my own hand. Suddenly, he seemed very warm. 

When we were younger, he'd been prone to moments of deep depression for no reason at all. The smallest of things could trigger it. Back then, those were the only times he'd be quiet for more than five minutes. I briefly wondered if he still suffered from them.

"He's back you know."

I didn't need clarification on the name. "Yeah. Dumbledore wrote me."

"Hmm..." We fell into silence once more, his hand now completely surrounding mine in a loose grip. It was somehow more comforting that way, and I found I couldn't take my eyes off of him. His manner seemed to entice me. He had a way of sitting, even slouched as he was now, that commanded attention from others. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the way he sat, though, and just the mere fact that he was beautiful beyond imagination. Even in his state of thinness he was elegant and fair without trying. I've always wondered if perhaps he has veela in his blood somewhere. Maybe even nymph. His impossibly long legs were stretched out across the floor in front of our chairs, and I noticed for the first time that his shoes were barely any material at all, so full of holes as they were. My heart ached for him. Mindlessly, I trailed a finger up and down his arm, wondering briefly if he even felt the contact until he gave a flinch and a sharp intake of breath like a hiss. He pulled away from me hastily.

"Sirius?"

"It's nothing," he replied through clenched teeth and closed eyes. A hand was firmly clamped over the forearm I'd obviously irritated. It almost seemed as though...

"You're bleeding!"

"I'm fine!"

"No you're not! Let me take a look at it!" I stood up and forcefully took his arm in my grasp. The sleeve of his ratted robe was soaked, and obviously wasn't just water. "What did you do?" He didn't answer. I didn't really give a fair chance too, of course, as I soon ripped the arm of the robe completely off to get a good look at the injury. It was large, and I was shocked that I hadn't taken any notice of it before. It must healed over some, and just then re-opened. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's fine...it doesn't even barely hur-ow! Leave it alone!"

"No, let me go grab something to dress it. I don't know any healing charms."

"Really, you don't have to-" He reached out pleadingly with his good arm, and I caught it tightly.

"I know." I let his hand go and went off to find the supplies. I wondered at his odd reaction, as though he wanted to keep the pain, as though he wanted to live with it. I put the thoughts out of mind and went back to him once I had what I needed. He was still there in the chair, head leaned back against the backrest and eyes tightly closed. The bleeding seemed to have slowed some, but not much. "Hold still," I told him softly and kneeled down and once more took his arm into my hands. As I began to bandage the deep gash, Sirius gave a deep sigh and opened his eyes to watch me. It was the most intimate moment I could remember ever having shared with him.

"There," I muttered as I finished. His gaze had never wavered the entire time. It was almost unnerving. His glance was piercing. "Does it feel any better?"

"...yeah. Thanks." I risked a look up and found myself looking him straight in the eye. His newly bandaged arm suddenly lifted from its place on the armrest. I didn't even flinch as his sublime fingers traced my visage. It was like silk slinking over my bare skin in the dead of winter. A chill ran through me and I visibly shuddered, causing him to draw back in misunderstanding.

"No," I reached out and grasped the tips of his fingers, but they easily slipped away. "I-I didn't mean..."

"No, it's alright. I understand. I was just hopeful, I suppose, that things could be different." He drew his legs in closer to the chair.

"You don't understand, though!" I took hold of his knee, forcing him to pay attention. "Things...they can be different...if only..."

For the second time in our short conversation I felt his fingers brush against my lips, followed a soft, "Shhh." A second hand softly caressed my cheek, and I closed my eyes, leaning into the touch in response. The fingers left my lips and suddenly my head was being cradled. He leaned it gently forward and soft lips met my forehead. "Things can't be different," his hushed voice murmured directly into my ear as he lay his head on mind. "We have to live with them as they are."

"But-"

"No." Another kiss, this one atop my head, with the grace of a cat, ironic almost. "No buts."

"Sirius," I pulled away, shaking my head. "What I wouldn't give to put you back together."

"But you are, Moony." He once more took hold of my hand.

"Pardon?"

"Putting me back together." The look on his face was almost happy as I pulled him down to meet his lips with my own. The kiss, our first ever, seemed to go on all night.

Maybe someday I will be able to make him understand.


End file.
